My Ultimate Test
by Just Ducky 722
Summary: JD's been kidnapped, and he's got to put his medical knowledge to use...his life depends on it.
1. Chapter 1

"Shit shit shit

"Shit shit shit!" he muttered, dragging the near lifeless weight of his brother behind him. He could feel the sweat trickle down the back of his neck as he made his way down the alley where (hopefully) the cops wouldn't look.

This was not in the plan at all. His mind screamed at him, he had left too many holes in the plan, and everything that had happened was his fault. Yes, granted, it was a bank robbery. You couldn't expect every detail to go according to plan. There were always those little situations that cropped up on you when you were actually in the moment. The dead bank teller, for example, wasn't in the plan. He shuddered as he thought of the unnecessary death. He had never killed anyone before, but it wasn't as hard as he had expected.

Even besides the death, the bank robbery hadn't gone smoothly at all. First problem: he and his brother had got away with absolutely no cash (so forget any chance of bribery). Second problem: his brother had been shot.

Seriously, what did he know about gunshots? Nothing, that was what. He was trained as a damn plumber. Leaky pipes, no problem. Leaky people, he wasn't so good at. What the hell was he going to do about his brother?

Every fiber of his being that was crying out for self preservation was telling him to leave his brother behind, to die. He could get away a lot faster without him. Plus, no one had seen his face; he could just set up a new identity in some other state, and be safe. His idiot brother was the one who took off the mask when the teller had died. Stupid stupid idiot. He was soft, that's what he was.

"I knew I should have picked a better partner, even if he is my brother," he thought to himself, cursing his poor decision.

"But come on," he thought to himself. "He's my brother, that's got to mean something." And unfortunately for his safety, it did. He couldn't just leave him, softie or not.

"Besides," he thought, with a hint of irony, "mother would never forgive me."

As he drove away in the car they had parked for their getaway, he thought frantically, his mind racing through a whole slew of ridiculous, moronic, and dangerous ideas. Finally, he settled on a plan. It wasn't the best plan he had ever come up with, and it certainly wasn't foolproof. However, he admitted to himself, he and his brother had believed the bank robbery was pretty damn near foolproof.

Okay, so true, in his newest plan someone would probably get hurt, but he and his brother would be fine. And his brother couldn't possibly screw this one up, he was damn near unconscious. Blood was thicker than anything else, and his brother was bleeding pretty badly. Yes, this was starting to seem like a fine plan…

* * *

"So that's what being covered in chocolate sauce would be like," JD thought to himself, coming out of his daydream. He glanced at his watch, and momentarily cursed his daydreaming habit.

So, with the speed of an incredibly fast bunny (okay, maybe not quite that fast, he admitted to himself, but close, and he was narrating this part, after all) he headed off to check on Mr. Davis. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him yet (the tests kept coming back negative, curse those tests!) but he was pretty sure he could get Dr. Cox to help him out.

"Newbie!" came a voice.

"Ah yes," thought JD, "the voice beckons me. Wait! Hark, do I hear a girls name being uttered from his lips?"

"Susan," Dr. Cox said, turning to face him.

"Score," thought JD. "My ability to predict Dr. Cox's next move has prove accurate again!"

"I know you have a lot on your mind right now. 'Does he love me? Is he only using me, or does he really want a relationship?' But re-he-healy, could we focus on the matter at hand? You paged me, and there had better be something really damn important about to happen, because I'm not seeing any emergencies."

JD swallowed the smile threatening to come up on his features. The ranting was just kind of funny today, but he had Mr. Davis to think about, and he didn't have time for a rant right now. Maybe later though….focus! Okay, Mr. Davis.

"I was wondering if you could check out this chart for me. Mr. Davis is presenting with achy joints, kidney problems, a fever, and a rash, but I can't figure out what could be causing all four of those symptoms," JD said, being serious for a minute.

"Check the dictionary under L, princess."

"Ummm….legionnaires?"

"Try again…L…U"

"Lupus??"

"Bingo, way to go Sally."

"He's using names that start with "S" today," JD thought to himself. Out loud he said, "But its never lupus."

"I know you're a big fan of TV, but just because it's never lupus on House, doesn't mean it can't happen in real life. Now, hop to it Shirley, and do something about it. Let me know how it goes." Dr. Cox turned and walked away, a slight smile on his face. JD was right; it never did seem to be lupus. But it was this time, and he took pleasure in pointing that out. He never got tired of the kid hanging around, needing advice. Or calling him by girls' names and ridiculing him while doling out said advice.

"Oh suck it up, Cox," he thought to himself. "Any more emotional, and you'll have to be calling yourself by girls' names. Though it was a good idea to go with "S" names today."

* * *

JD was pleased with himself. He had gotten Mr. Davis started on a course of medicine that would help with the lupus (and played a couple of hands of crazy 8 with him, while he was at it), and he was ready to head home. Turk and Carla wouldn't be off for a couple of hours, so he was just going to try to grab some sleep before maybe heading out for a drink.

A couple of feet out the door, on the way to his scooter, a man came up to him, frantic. He was sweating and slightly dirty—he looked like he had been running though alleys or something.

"Hey doctor," the guy said to him. "My brother's hurt, and I can't get him out of the car. Can you help me?"

JD cocked his head slightly to the side, temporarily lost in a daydream, in which his huge muscles carried the guy's brother into the hospital to a cheering crowd. He was wearing a cape too. SD (for super doctor) was written across his chest, in spectacular super-hero fashion.

"Sure," JD said, snapping out of the daydream quickly—there were people to be helped! When they got to the car, JD poked his head in the back. He felt the guy's arm reach around him, smelled something sweet, and thought no more about rescue or anything else. He had been chloroformed, and was out cold.

"Well, it didn't come in handy for the bank robbery," the guy thought to himself, putting the chloroform away and climbing into the driver's seat, "but it really worked out for this situation."


	2. Chapter 2

JD woke up slowly, at least at first

JD woke up slowly, at least at first. He gradually became aware of his consciousness, which meant he gradually became aware that he had been _unconscious, _and that he had no idea how long he had been unconscious for!

"What the hell?" was his first coherent sentence. This was followed by a rude shock when someone slapped him hard, across the face.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth? Get up, you piece of crap," the voice of the man who slapped him commanded. Muttering to himself, the man said, "If I'd have known it would have taken you this long to wake up, I wouldn't have used the chloroform. I'd have just hit you over the head with something."

That really brought JD back to consciousness—he just wasn't really in the mood to be rendered unconscious by a blow to the head. He opened his eyes, and checked out his surroundings.

He was handcuffed to a pipe in what looked to be an incredibly dingy room. The furniture was sparse—and that was the nicest thing you could say about it. There was a table and two chairs, one of which had been moved over to where he was, and he was sitting on it. The table was missing a leg, and was being propped up by several boxes, but it was still leaning to one side. Behind the table there was also a small counter, with a stove and a fridge—a kind of makeshift kitchen.

Next to him, he saw a bed, with a bleeding man on it. (He decided to return to the bleeding man in a second, once his head was clearer, and he was less confused). The windows were covered with newspaper, so it was fairly dark in the room, though JD could tell it was dusk.

"Dusk?" he thought to himself. "I've been out for at least an hour."

"Yeah, sorry about kidnapping you and all," the man half-heartedly apologized, with an ironic smile and a weak chuckle. "My brother really needs help, and I couldn't really get him any conventional help. Gunshot wounds tend to be suspicious, and most hospital workers tend to report them to the police. Me and my brother, well, we couldn't have that. We've already got two strikes against us, you see. We can't have a third."

"Gunshot?!" thought JD, turning to look again at the man in the bed. Yup, sure was a gunshot, or at least he presumed there was one under the blood (there was a lot of blood).

"So, this is gonna be real simple. Basically, you let me know what you need to fix him up, and I'll get it for you. You do a good job, you get to go. You don't…" he paused here for a few seconds, JD assumed to build up the drama and terrify him more (and it was working, oh yeah, it was sure working). "Well, just do a good job."

"It's not that simple," JD said, starting to protest. For that response, he was hit again, this time backhanded across his face.

"Of course it is."

That was when JD noticed the gun the guy held in his hands. He didn't know a lot about guns, but it seemed big to him, and JD was pretty positive that it was capable of filling him full of bullets. The guy holding it was turning it over in his hands, very delicately, and it was pretty clear he knew his way around a gun.

JD briefly thought about trying to rush him and grab the gun, but quickly realized that there was no way he'd make it to him before he ended up getting shot. And it really didn't seem like a good idea to have another gunshot victim in the place—he was going to have a hard enough time taking care of one. So out the window went that idea.

JD took a deep breath to steady his nerves; his life could depend on what he said and the choices he made.

"I don't know what kind of internal damage was done. I can do my best to control the bleeding, and treat him for shock, but I'm not sure that I can do much else," JD explained, his voice wavering just a bit. "Don't be such a girl," he thought to himself. "You're getting too used to Dr. Cox calling you by girl's names. That doesn't mean you get to act like a girl in this situation!"

"Well, start with that, at least," the guy said, interrupting JD from continuing to scold himself about being a girl. "He looks pale," the guy's voice said, more panicked than it had been before.

The panic in his voice worried JD a lot. The man had a gun—there was no telling what he would do if he got upset. Time to say something that would calm him.

JD made his way over to the guy in the bed.

"What's his name?"

"What the hell do you need to know his name for?" the guy asked, suspiciously.

"Oops," thought JD. "So much for calming him."

Out loud he said, "I have to try to keep him conscious and alert, if I can. Using his name can help get his attention and keep him alert." JD explained this, doing his best to keep his voice calm and reasonable sounding. "The perfect reasoning-with-a-madman-voice," JD thought to himself.

"His name's Ted."

JD breathed a sigh of relief that the guy seemed calmer, and then turned his attention back to the gunshot victim, who now had a name.

"Ted, if you can hear me I need you to open your eyes for me," JD paused for a second, but didn't get any response. He tried again, "Ted, I know you're in pain, but I need you to open your eyes if you can." Again, he got no response. JD turned back to the guy with the gun.

"Do you have any gloves, and some gauze?"

"What do you need gloves for; my brother doesn't have no diseases! What are you implying, anyways?"

The angry voice was back—JD realized that meant it was time for damage control

"Its not just for my protection—its for his too. It keeps any dirt or germs I have on my hands from getting on him."

"Well, let me see," he said, pulling out a cardboard box from a cabinet near the sink. "Yeah, I've got some gloves and some towels, but no gauze."

"I can make that work." JD took the items from him, and put on the gloves. He started applying pressure to the gunshot wound using the towels. He applied pressure until practically all his weight was on Ted. He seemed to be controlling the bleeding, at least somewhat. This was good, but there was the new problem that Ted was shocky. JD checked to make sure he was breathing on his own, and luckily he was.

"Well, at least that's one less thing I have to worry about, for now," he thought to himself. JD wasn't sure what he would do if he had to start rescue breathing on this guy, and try to maintain pressure on his wound.

Keeping pressure on the wound with one hand, JD rolled Ted over until he was on his back. He shoved a couple of pillows under his feet, to elevate them above his heart. At this point, he turned to the other brother.

"You got any clean blankets in here? We've got to keep Ted warm."

"It's not that cold in here," the guy protested, as if he knew more about this than JD did.

"You really want to argue with me? We've got to keep him warm to keep him from going into shock, if he's not already in shock by now."

"Fine! Fine!" he said, slightly agitated, and he started poking around for a blanket, keeping the gun trained on JD the whole time. JD made a mental note to himself to back off slightly, to keep him from getting more than just slightly agitated.

"Remember," JD thought to himself, "he's the one with the gun. You may have the medical degree, but he's got the gun." A few seconds later, the guy returned with two heavy blankets. JD covered Ted up with the blankets, making sure that he was well covered so he'd stay warm. While he was doing this, JD noticed that Ted had another (luckily less serious) gunshot wound in his leg.

"You didn't tell me there were two gunshot wounds!" he said angrily, turning his attention to the guy's leg.

Suddenly, JD saw stars, and not the good kind either. The guy had taken the butt of the gun, and cracked him hard across the back of his skull. JD's vision swam, as he tried to get a hold on the pain and focus.

"This is not my fault!" the guy said to him. "You're the damn doctor! You're supposed to diagnose these things."

JD didn't think it would be wise to tell him that one doesn't generally diagnose gunshot wounds—it's usually pretty apparent what is wrong when someone has been shot. JD was really just trying to get rid of the double vision he had from the pain that was radiating across the back of his skull. Feeling like he might throw up, JD applied pressure to the guy's leg.

The bleeding was harder to control here, but eventually JD felt like he might have gotten a pretty good handle on it. He was just praying that he wouldn't have to apply a tourniquet. Though it would stop the bleeding, it might also cause Ted to lose his leg, and someone he didn't think the oh-so-friendly guy with the gun would take very kindly to that bit of news.

"I think we've got things under control for now," JD said. "But we really need to get Ted to a hospital. He's going to be in a massive amount of pain when he wakes up."

"Well, would morphine help?"

"Of course it would, but where the hell are you going to get morphine?"

The guy came up to JD, his hand outstretched. JD flinched, thinking he was going to get hit again. But the smack didn't come. Instead the guy lightly patted JD on the cheek with his hand.

"Don't you worry, I'll figure it out. Now you just go back and sit on that chair over there, and just relax while I take care of everything."

JD hesitated a second, but decided it would be best to obey. He had to keep reminding himself who had the gun in this situation—and it was not him. With one hand, the guy tied him up to the chair, tight.

He muttered to himself, "I knew the boy scouts' knot merit badge would come in handy some day." Out loud, he said to JD, "You just sit tight and I'll get the morphine for Ted. Anything else we would need?"

"Some more gauze and towels. Maybe an IV and some saline fluids so we can re-hydrate him."

"I'll see what I can do," he replied, almost cheerfully. Then he turned, headed out of the room, and left JD alone with Ted, the unconscious gunshot victim.

"Great," thought JD, "this is just what I wanted to do with my night off. At least Ted doesn't have lupus." But even the thought of making jokes at Dr. Cox's expense didn't really comfort JD. His head was throbbing, and the urge to puke was still strong. He knew he shouldn't fall asleep with a head injury, so instead he tried to stay awake by repeating the times tables.

"One times one is one. One times two is two…" JD said, fighting off unconsciousness. But soon, he couldn't stay awake anymore, and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

JD woke up to the sound of a door opening

JD woke up to the sound of a door slamming shut. He opened his eyes, and his vision was blurred, making it difficult to see the room. However, after blinking a couple of times, the room slowly came into focus.

"How many times am I going to be unconscious today?" he wondered to himself. "I mean, its fun and all, but I sure am getting sick of it."

"I got what you needed," the guy with the gun told JD. "I'll untie you, and then you can take care of my brother again. Don't pull anything; I'm keeping my gun trained on your head, and as the people in the bank can tell you, I'm not afraid to shoot someone if they're not listening to me."

JD's wrists screamed with relief as the knots came undone. He hadn't even realized that his wrists were hurting from being tied up until they had been _untied_. Probably that was fortunate, because they were hurting an awful lot even after being untied.

Speaking of being in pain, his head was killing him. He'd be surprised if it just didn't split right in half. This thought nearly led JD into a daydream, but the man with the gun brought him sharply back to reality with a hard shove. JD wasn't expecting it, so he actually fell off the chair, not able to catch himself to break his fall.

His captor wasn't exactly being gentle with him, and his body was starting to ache from the mistreatment.

"Hey, get moving. My brother doesn't have all day. He needs you to do some doctoring."

JD pulled himself up as fast as his pounding head would allow him, and he headed over to the bed with Ted in it. He took a look in the box with the stolen supplies that his captor had just brought in. There was some gauze, medical tape, a bunch of creams and ointments, and other various medical supplies (it was pretty clear that the guy was just grabbing stuff off a shelf in a hospital). At the bottom of the box was a vial of morphine and several syringes. Those JD pulled out and handed back to the guy.

"These are supposed to be for my brother; what are you handing them to me for?"

"Well, he's not awake right now, so he's probably not feeling any pain. We'll save it for when he really needs it. Its best not to overuse morphine. Put it in the fridge or something. I'll let you know when he needs it."

By this time, JD's head was getting worse, and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up soon. He tried to fight the urge for just a bit longer.

He turned back to Ted and gently lifted up the towels he had applied to his wounds, and examined the damage. Unfortunately, the bleeding hadn't completely stopped, but it had noticeably slowed, so that was encouraging. At least Ted probably wouldn't bleed out anytime soon.

JD redressed the wounds with the supplies the crazy gun-toting maniac had brought. Although JD knew he could not surgically repair the damage, he could at least keep the wounds clean until he could convince his captor that Ted needed real medical attention in an actual hospital.

Then JD turned his attention (and some of his worrying) over to the fact that Ted still hadn't awakened yet. He tried getting him to respond by calling out his name a couple of times, but he got no response. His limbs were colder than he had hoped, and his breathing was irregular. These symptoms were a clear indication of shock, which was definitely not a good thing.

Having Ted in shock so long made JD worry that Ted's body was going to be more susceptible to infections at the gunshot wound sites. This was a concern certainly not made any better by the conditions they were in—the shack that was housing them looked like it hadn't been cleaned in quite a while. What they really needed was a sterile environment. And a team of medical professionals. And some blood transfusions. And a hospital. And some aspirin, for JD's headache, which was growing worse by the second.

"I have to use the bathroom," JD suddenly said to the guy, who was unable to keep his attention on Ted any longer.

"You can wait."

"I'm going to throw up in about three seconds. If you don't want this room to become even less sterile and more unsafe for your brother, you might want to show me to the restroom," JD answered, gritting his teeth trying to hold off on vomiting long enough to convince this guy to let him use the restroom.

"Fine, fine. Follow me. But no funny business."

Had JD been feeling better, he might have found it comical that the "bad guy" used a cliché like "funny business." But JD was too busy trying not to throw up, and trying to ignore the blinding pain, which was getting worse with every step he took to the bathroom. Standing up only made it worse; JD's vision blurred, and he felt sure he was going to pass out or throw up, or both in a matter of seconds. But he took a deep breath, and managed to make it into the bathroom. He bent over the toilet, and emptied his stomach contents.

Apparently, JD's captor thought this was good enough, and that JD didn't need any more time, because he grabbed JD by the shoulder, and dragged him back to his brother's bedside.

"What else do you need to do for him? Can I get you anything else to help?"

"Do you know what your brother's blood type is?" JD asked, slightly concerned that the blood was already starting to seep through the bandages..

"O negative, same as me."

"Well, if you could actually get me a bag or two of O negative, that would really help out. And not that I think you could get one, but an oxygen tank and mask would be nice."

"What, are you trying to get me busted?" the guy asked, angrily. What, did this idiot doctor really think he was going to be able to walk out of a hospital with a huge oxygen tank? He loved his brother and all, but he wasn't stupid or reckless enough to try that kind of stunt just to make his brother breathe a little easier.

"No, no," JD responded quickly, trying to avoid being hit again. He didn't think his head could take any more abuse. "I'm just trying to figure out how to prevent your brother from dying of shock."

JD captor suddenly changed position, and JD turned white. His captor evidently didn't appreciate this last statement, for he had now moved directly behind JD and was now holding his gun to the back of JD's head.

"I'll tell you what. He had damn well better not die, because then there won't just be one dead body in this room. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes…sir," JD wasn't sure why he added the 'sir' in at the end, unless it was because he was absolutely terrified, and it seemed like a good thing to say to someone holding a gun to your head. It seemed to work, because the gun was slowly removed from the side of JD's head. His captor then ordered him back to the chair, which he was tied to once again.

"I'll be back with the blood, if I can get my hands on some. I'll grab some more gauze and stuff too, if it's convenient. Maybe I'll even pick us up some food. I'm getting hungry, so I assume you are too."

The guy was out the door before JD told him that he was still so nauseous that he doubted that he could keep any food down. Maybe with a quick nap, JD would be feeling better by the time the guy got back. He hadn't eaten since lunch, and it was probably at least 8 or 9 at night. He knew he should eat, or he'd be feeling like crap very soon.

But he wasn't thinking too much about that right now. He was in pain, and he was so exhausted he could hardly stand it. JD's eyes closed, and within seconds he was asleep again.


	4. Chapter 4

Dr. Cox looked around for Newbie; Mr. Davis wasn't showing any signs of improvement. Its not like Mr. Davis would be fixed yet, but he should at least be showing some signs of improvement. However, he wasn't finding Newbie anywhere.

"Of course, whenever I don't want Sue Ann around, she's there, but now that I actually want to talk to her, she's nowhere to be found. This is ridiculous."

Dr. Cox headed over to the nurses' station. Probably Carla or Ghandi could tell him where Newbie was.

"Carla, you seen Newbie? If he's gone to put more gel in his hair, instead of caring for his patients, this is not going to go well for him."

"He got off work a couple of hours ago. He went home to grab some sleep, I think, and then he was going to go for a drink with me and Turk when we get off in a half hour."

Dr. Cox considered this. Sure, he didn't have to page Newbie; he could just take over and figure it out himself. But what kind of fun would that be? So he went ahead and paged Newbie, and headed off to fix up some more sick people before Newbie came in.

* * *

Meanwhile, JD wasn't doing so well. He had woken up (so that was good, at least) but his vision was going in and out of being blurry, and the urge to throw up was still quite present. Fortunately, he had nothing in him to throw up, or he'd be a mess. And he was growing more and more concerned about Ted. The other guy hadn't gotten back yet, so he had just been stuck being tied to the chair while Ted got worse and worse. He needed that blood for him. Well, really, he needed a whole OR and a team of trained surgeons, but if that wasn't going to happen, he'd settle for some blood instead.

Suddenly, his beeper went off. He couldn't do anything about it, since he was still tied to the chair, but he thought it he could contort his body just right, he might be able to see who it was…

Sure enough, he got enough of a glimpse to know who was paging him. Dr. Cox. Well, there was at least some hope there. If he didn't answer a page from Dr. Cox, sure he'd start off by going on a rant, but maybe his anger would fuel him into looking for JD. Then he would realize that JD was missing, and he'd do something about it. Or he'd just go on another rant, and then forget about it. Or he'd have a scotch. Who could tell with Dr. Cox? But, JD was holding out for some extreme anger—the kind that would fuel Dr. Cox to look for JD endlessly so he could yell at him. Eventually, someone had to figure out that he was being held hostage.

JD considered what he was going to do about the whole being held hostage thing. His wrists were tied pretty securely to the chair (he knew, he had checked) so escape didn't seem likely. His only way out was to fix this guy, so he concentrated on that. Once he got the guy a blood transfusion, he was hoping he would regain consciousness. That would at least get him in good with the other guy. There was no way he could cure him though; the guy should have kidnapped a surgeon. No way he'd say that to him though; he didn't want Turk ending up here with him next.

The door opened, and the guy walked back in. He had brought some cheeseburgers (which made JD's stomach turn) but he also had a box of the medical supplies that JD had asked him to bring back.

With the gun trained on JD, his captor untied him from the chair. JD very casually shut off the sound on his pager. The guy had taken his cell phone, but left him his pager, figuring it wouldn't help him at all. He was right, but JD figured he didn't need to have the pager going off every five seconds. He just turned it on vibrate, so it would only be noticed by him. It would be nice to know exactly how hard Dr. Cox was looking for him.

"Well, go ahead and get some work done. You can have a burger when my brother's awake."

"Like I'd even want one," JD thought sarcastically. He didn't dare say it out loud though. The guy with the gun was too scary to be sarcastic with.

JD attached the bag of blood to the bed post and inserted the IV line into Ted. It would take a few minutes before he would see if it was working. So he put the extra bags of blood in the fridge, and pulled out the morphine, just in case. He didn't want Ted to wake up screaming and not be able to help him immediately. Probably that wouldn't help his kidnapper's disposition toward him.

JD then went ahead and checked the chest wound. It was still bleeding (obviously—there was a giant hole in the guy's chest) but it had slowed somewhat. One look at the leg told JD he and the guy with the hole in his leg were in pretty good shape. The bleeding there had slowed as well. Since he was getting blood to replace what he had lost and the bleeding hadn't increased, JD thought he might actually regain consciousness soon. This would be a good thing for his patient's health, but probably not a good thing for JD. Ted was going to be in pain, and his kidnapper would not be happy about that. So he decided to try to do something about it now, before it became a problem.

"Hey," JD said, getting his kidnapper's attention. "I wanted to warn you that when Ted wakes up he's going to be in a lot of pain."

"Well that's what the morphine is for."

"I know, but I can't give it to him until I assess him, because I have to know exactly how much pain he's in, and he has to be coherent enough to answer my questions. I just wanted to warn you so you don't freak out and hit me before I can assess and give him the morphine."

"Whatever, as long as you fix him up."

"Yeah, about that," JD wasn't sure he should bring this up, but the guy was going to figure it out sooner or later. Might as well address it now. "I can't completely fix him—we'd need an OR and a whole team of surgeons."

The kidnapper's face started to turn red with anger. He stood up menacingly, and opened his mouth, presumably to do some yelling, but JD cut him off before he could get started.

"Hey, I just said I couldn't completely fix him. I can probably get him better enough for you and him to drive to Mexico, and then you can get him all fixed up there."

The guy settled down a little, but he was still angry enough to say, "What kind of doctor are you anyways? You can't even figure out how to fix an injured guy." But mostly he was muttering, so JD figured he was in the clear.

A tense few minutes passed. JD's pager went off once during that time, and it took all his self-control to ignore it and pretend it didn't happen. It had to be Dr. Cox, but JD wasn't about to give that pager any attention and piss off the guy with the gun. The ten minutes felt like a lifetime, but it was probably about ten minutes, give or take. Ted was beginning to wake up, and JD wanted to start assessing him as soon as possible. It would be better to assess him quickly so the pain didn't send him back into shock. That would not be good for him _or _JD.

So JD ran through a basic list of questions you ask a guy that's just been unconscious for a while, to make sure he knows what's going on, and that there wasn't any brain damage or other problems from blood loss. JD was getting sort of frustrated, because this was the sort of thing someone trained in first aid would be able to do, while he _waited for an ambulance so the guy could get to surgery_. Plus, he was treating someone while fighting through a concussion, which the guy who wanted his help in the first place had given him. This whole situation was really ridiculous—JD wasn't going to be able to do anything all that much more helpful. But he'd at least make it look good, and maybe he'd get out of here.

Anyways, as soon as JD had figured out that the Ted wasn't brain damaged, he gave him some morphine, to ease the pain. He'd like to be in a morphine induced haze right now…

JD's head tilted off to the side, and he was just about to sink into a really good daydream, when…

"Hey! Pay attention. You're making him go unconscious again, and he just woke up. What the hell is wrong with you?" the kidnapper demanded.

JD shook Ted slightly. Ted, not completely waking up, groaned a bit. JD looked up at his kidnapper.

"He's fine. He's just sleeping, which is good for him. It'll help his body heal."

"Whatever. You're the doctor. And you probably want to eat, huh? Go ahead and grab a cheeseburger," the kidnapper offered. It would have seemed almost friendly, had it not been for the gun, and the mean look in his eyes.

JD figured eating would probably be good for him. Or at least better for him than not eating at all. So he slowly made his way through one cheeseburger, and managed not to throw up. His pager went off again, so JD figured it had been ten or fifteen minutes from the last time he had been paged. So, Dr. Cox was going to get angry about him not showing up. Well, good. That could actually be helpful for a change.

After JD finished his meal, he was retied to the chair.

"I can't have you going anywhere. I'm gonna figure out how me and Ted are gonna get to Mexico, and what to do with you." The kidnapper patted JD lightly on the cheek, almost reassuringly. Well, it would have been reassuring had JD's head not exploded in pain—he had to fight back both the urge to wince and the urge to throw up all over the kidnapper's shoes.

After the guy headed out the door, JD let himself drift off to sleep again. He figured he couldn't get any worse even if he went to sleep (or at least, that was what he tried to tell himself.) And he definitely didn't let himself think about what the kidnapper was going to do with him. If JD was honest with himself, he knew that it didn't involve him just leaving fine and dandy. But that was too terrifying to think about, so he fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Dr. Cox was pissed. There was no sign of Judy, despite repetitive pages. And, as much as the whiny little girl could irritate him, Dr. Cox had to admit (but never out loud, even if threatened by death) that she also had the makings of a good doctor. Of course, this wouldn't be true anymore if Marie didn't show up when he paged her to learn something. Part of what made little Cindy good at what she did was that, despite being kicked repeatedly like a little puppy by Cox's rants, she kept following him around, continuing to learn in spite of him. Damned if Cox didn't at least appreciate the persistence and determination. Of course, if Patricia talked less, that would be a bonus, but one couldn't have everything.

But should Cox be worried or annoyed? That was the real question. Well, weigh the facts. First of all, despite persistent pages, Paula hadn't shown up. She always, but _always_ showed up. Point of concern. Second point: she had gone home to sleep, and could have just fallen asleep and not been awakened by the page. Point of irritation and annoyance. Third point: Roberta was supposed to show up for drinks with Ghandi and Carla, but (as evidenced by Carla's concerned phone call) Abigail hadn't shown up. Point of concern. However, the Turks were headed to JD's place of residence to check to see if he was just sleeping, so they might find him and then Dr. Cox could really be annoyed.

Well, he might as well just wait for the phone call, to see what was going on.

Carla and Turk headed to JD's to see if the poor guy was still sleeping, but when they arrived, they found him conspicuously absent. In fact, Sasha wasn't there, which told them he had never made it home. They tried calling him again, and paging him again, to see if they could hear his cell phone or pager, but there was again no answer and no corny music to indicate that he was around. They headed to their house, just to check for sure that he hadn't stopped by there, but it was empty, as expected. Without knowing what else to do, they called Dr. Cox again.

Dr. Cox didn't worry about things. Even when the Turks called to say they still couldn't find Emily, he didn't worry. No, Dr. Cox got pissed instead of worrying. Much more productive, because when he was pissed, he was proactive. And if Claire wasn't at her place or any of the other expected places, she must be at the hospital. So he started tearing up the place. He checked patients' rooms, supply closets, the on-call room, and even thought to check the numerous places Janitor could have stashed her. He even threatened Janitor.

"I swear, if you know where little Cindy Lou-Who is, you had better tell me before we end up calling the cops or something."

"Seriously? He's missing?" the Janitor asked, chuckling to himself.

"Yes, and while I might find this funny, we really can't find her. I just need to know; did you stash her somewhere?"

"No," the Janitor answered, slightly sad. "I'd love to take credit for this one, but unfortunately I can't. I have no part in this one. Someone else must have beat me to it."

Dr. Cox sighed, and headed out toward the parking lot. He checked around for JD's scooter, and found it in the usual place that JD parked it. This meant he hadn't left the hospital on his own, and Dr. Cox wasn't finding him in the hospital. So where the hell was he? Finally, he called Turk.

"Ghandi…I think we've got a problem."

* * *

The next time the kidnapper came in, JD didn't wake up at the noise of the door, like he usually did. Instead, the kidnapper had to shake him several times before a very groggy JD woke up. His vision was blurry, and his head was killing him; the shaking certainly wasn't helping matters either.

"So, you think my brother's good to go?"

"For the love of God, say yes JD," JD thought to himself. "If you say yes, you get out of here and get some aspirin. Just freaking say yes."

"No," JD said, and inwardly cringed, ticked at himself. "You're brother needs another bag of blood before he's stable enough to be moved."

"What the hell is taking so long? People are going to notice you're missing pretty soon, and I didn't exactly devise the most clever hiding place. This shack is right on my brother's land. They'll be here in a heartbeat if they figure out I'm the one that took you. You've got two more hours. That's it."

JD sighed. Wrong response. The guy's fists came swinging at him, and made a direct hit right to his head. JD was still tied to the chair, but the blow was enough to completely knock him over. If he had still been daydreaming, he would have seen small tweeting birds flying around his head. His head exploded with pain; JD was unable to control his stomach and threw up, all over the floor.

"Aw, come on. Seriously? Now you're going to throw up all over the floor?" The kidnapper was annoyed. With one hand still holding the gun, he untied JD and then pointed to the bathroom.

"You can just find what you need to clean up this mess. It's sure as hell not staying here for two more hours, and I'm obviously not cleaning it up."

JD hesitated a minute, not sure if he could stand up. Actually, he was pretty positive he couldn't stand up.

"MOVE" the guy shouted, raising his gun as if to strike JD again. At this, a terrified and extremely nauseous JD crawled his way to the bathroom to find something to clean up the mess. Anything to avoid being hit again.

* * *

When Turk and Carla showed up again at Sacred Heart, Dr. Cox was really pissed.

"I don't know where the hell Newbie is, but if he's off playing with dolls, he is going to be in some serious trouble. I'm calling the cops."

"What the hell Dr. Cox? I know you don't like JD, but I'm sure he's not doing anything illegal to warrant calling the cops," Turk replied.

"Se-he-heriously Ghandi. While we are all impressed that you can even utter full sentences with that great mind of yours, you really should reserve the big-boy ideas for us grown-ups. 'Kay?" Dr. Cox said this, rolling his eyes. "Newbie's not anywhere in the hospital, and his scooter's still here, so…" he trailed off, not wanting to admit he was worried. "Someone's gotta make the hard choice…the police need to be called to find him."

Carla nodded, and turned to the phone in the nurses station. Ghandi just looked at Dr. Cox, slightly bewildered. Dr. Cox scowled, and turned on his heels to the lounge…Carla would find him when they heard something.

A short while later, two cops showed up in the lounge.

"Dr. Cox?" one of them asked. "We've got a few questions."

"I know we've got a crack legal force in this town, but I didn't expect you to get here this fast. What, did Newbie rob a bank or something?"

"Actually sir, we're concerned that he's been kidnapped. This morning, when two bank robbers were fleeing the scene of a bank robbery, one of the officers shot one of the guys twice. He's got to be injured pretty badly, and since no one like that has been in the hospitals, and no dead bodies have turned up, we were concerned with what his brother might do to try to help him. We're thinking he grabbed Dr. Dorian to try to help his brother. We've spoken with your Chief of Medicine…apparently some blood and medicine as well as miscellaneous medical supplies were stolen from the hospital. One of the orderlies tried to stop the guy, but was given a black eye for his trouble. We suspect this was the brother, gathering supplies for Dr. Dorian to care for his brother."

This was tough for Dr. Cox to swallow. He sat down, hands on top of his head (in the trademark, Dr. Cox is overwhelmed look) and started to answer the police officers' questions.


End file.
